


Dancing Around

by Saturniidae



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Gen, Multi, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saturniidae/pseuds/Saturniidae
Summary: Moments from the Underworld's (questionably) finest.
Relationships: Megaera & Thanatos (Hades Video Game), Megaera/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 186





	1. Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the surface, Zagreus takes a moment to regroup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is something a little different than my usual fare, but I've always wanted to try writing short snippets rather than something longer. I think they're all (so far) vaguely connected, however, if anyone has requests I'll take them.

This snow stuff is very cold and very, very wet. 

He barely notices it now, but the first time he sat in the snow after battling Hades, he’d been completely taken aback just how cold and wet the entire ordeal had been. He knows his feet are dull to most sensations, but it was a shock. 

Now, he’s taken to dusting off one of the ruined columns and sitting, watching the reflection of the moon ripple as snow falls, slow and silent. 

He’s exhausted, sore, and hollow. 

Secretly, he wonders if Father is right to question him. How many times must he do this? How many times must he slay his own father only to die as the Fates loop him back to the start? It’s a trial more arduous than Heracles’ labors; his own boulder to push, over and over. The cup of water that runs dry as he lifts it to his lips. 

He is tired. He’ll never admit it, but it’s true. 

The cold fortifies him, sharpens his dulled senses. The tactile mourning of a goddess blankets this place, reminding him that even if he’s not able to make it through the Fates this time, someone else is looking for Persephone. He is not the only one who wishes to find her, who wants to ask her _why_. 

He stands, lifts his hands over his head and stretches. His wounds ache and his back cracks loudly, but he feels refreshed. 

He hops down from his perch, running his fingers across rock and thick drifts of snow as he walks to the gateway that, maybe, will lead him to the outside world. He touches the butterfly he wears as a fibula underneath his paldron, feeling it flutter against his touch. Beneath his skin, the borrowed powers he wields pulse in time with his mortal-colored blood, reminding him that his bones are not hollow, that his fingers still grasp that strangely-braided cord of his fate. 

He looks up at the sky, heavy with clouds as the snow falls, fat flakes that begin to obscure the small copse that has turned into an arena, erasing the scorched earth and smoldering ichor. 

Snow will fall and cover all evidence of his existence, until the next time he emerges. 

“Thank you, gods,” he whispers up, up to the grandmother he barely knows, to the cousins and uncles and their strange mesh of care and power.

One more time. One more death. One more life. 

He steps through the gateway.


	2. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the quiet moments, Zagreus is afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raise your hand if you have been personally attacked with the fondness with which Demeter addresses Zagreus. _*raises both hands*_

Zagreus reaches out, curling himself up tight against Thanatos. He tucks his head underneath the other’s chin, face pressed up close to skin. His voice is muffled, quieter than usual.

“What if this isn’t enough, after all, Than? What if I’m not… _enough_?”

Thanatos shifts, pressing his palm to the center of Zagreus’ back. He buries his face into the disarray that passes for Zagreus’ hair, lips pressing a kiss to his crown. “What’s this about, Zagreus?”

Zagreus’ fingers curl into a fist against Thanatos’ chest; Thanatos can feel his jaw clench against his neck, the way his breath shudders as he inhales. Zagreus is struggling within himself, and all Thanatos can do is be patient. The answer will come eventually. 

“Lady Demeter, she…”

“ _Ah_. Zag…”

Zagreus huffs in frustration and sits up, eyes bright even in the dim light of his bedchambers. He runs a hand through his hair, looking up at the ceiling. Thanatos shifts, tactfully remaining silent as that shining in his eyes tracks down his cheeks.

“ _Little sprout_ ,” Zagreus says finally, face turned away. “She doesn’t know who I am, and still, she says it with fondness. Why? Why are they all so…Do I really deserve this? What have I done that is so special to them? I am not the only one to defy their father? Why, why, why? I cannot figure it out, it drives me near to madness, Than, this family I can barely touch. My own grandmother, Thanatos, but she doesn't know me. She speaks of Mother without telling me anything at all, and I want to ask her everything.”

He balls his fists up against the sheets, arms shaking. “I have never wanted to find Mother more, Than,” he whispers. “I want to find her, I want to, in hopes that I can repay some of this debt to my family, but what if, what if I _can’t_? What if Father’s right, and I’m just…”

“Zagreus,” Thanatos murmurs. He places a hand on Zagreus’ thigh, fingers gentle as they smooth up and down the skin. “You are not useless. One day, the time will come, and you will find her. Do not be afraid.”

“Fear is for the weak,” Zagreus whispers after a long pause.

“Only if it holds you back,” Thanatos counters, reaching up to pinch Zagreus’ side, smirking as the prince flinches and yelps. “Don’t let it hold you back, Zag. Keep going.”


	3. Lyre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megaera's warning hits a flat note. So does Zagreus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see: pre-relationship with Meg, pre-confrontation with Hades re: Than helping Zag out, but Zagreus has the lyre.  
> A little longer than the first two, because I had too much fun playing with the triad for the first time. Between the three of them, there's only one brain cell, and I think Meg has it.

“Thanatos!”

Thanatos turns, more than just a little surprised to see Megaera striding down the hallway.

“Megaera? Is something the matter?”

She gets into his face, prodding one hot-pink nail over his heart. “Do something about your insipid princely lover, Thanatos, before he drives this house to madness.”

“He, what, I— _Megaera_!” he hisses, face hot with both embarrassment and anger. Shock follows soon after; he didn’t realize she _knew_. Denial is quick to jump to his tongue, tasting of shame and fear.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You reek of him,” she scoffs. “And he of you. Don’t think me ignorant, Thanatos. He comes into my chambers with your keepsake in hand, your name on his lips and you _protest_?”

Thanatos claps his hands over Megaera’s shoulders, turning them from the openness of the hallway. “Be more aware of who could be listening, Meg—”

Megaera snorts, a grin curling on her lips. Something isn’t right, Thanatos realizes as the shock of her statement wears off.

“Lord Hades has gone off to the surface after Zagreus, Thanatos. Don’t think so poorly of me,” she chides, sliding away to circle around his back to his other side. “So maybe _you_ should be a little more aware, huh? You’re as sloppy as Zagreus.”

He bites off any further retort, studying her face and posture. She’s stiff, like she’s playing at being angry with him. He doubts anyone else besides Nyx would realize—perhaps Zagreus, maybe, if he was in a mood to really read the room.

Something isn’t right. He takes a moment to consider her words, sitting through the carefully chosen words to divine their meanings. Only one thing comes to mind: Megaera knows about him and Zagreus. That means that the others are not far behind, and no, it’s too soon, they haven’t had enough time yet, he hasn’t had time to even begin to accept what the master will say, what Lord Hades will do in response.

Thanatos can take whatever gets tossed at him, he’s sure. Zagreus can too, but… but he shouldn’t have to. If Zagreus is restricted even further because of this…

 _Ah_ , and that’s why she’s chosen Achilles’ corridor to playact in, because the three of them have stakes in Zagreus’ escape. Achilles himself has turned his back to them entirely, but Thanatos knows he must be playing lookout for them.

“I don’t appreciate your posturing, Megaera,” he sighs, sounding for all the world like he’s being extremely harangued. “You are cross with me, and with Zagreus. Why?”

“Oh, it’s too long of a list to share,” she murmurs. She prods him again with her finger, eyes glinting. Her gaze darts to the side, towards the side of the hallway that borders on the procession chamber.

He nods, minutely, understanding immediately. He’s thankful, at least, for the warning. He’s aware that Hades has turned his attention towards his comings and goings, asking about his trips in and out of Asphodel, Elysium.

So reckoning is coming. He is glad Megaera has at least given him some time to prepare himself.

“In any case: You will fix this problem we have here in the House, before we all go mad. If you don’t, I will make hell for you and he.”

“Don’t you already?” Thanatos sighs, batting her hand away. “Besides, I can’t stop him from what he wants. I… I won’t stop him from trying to leave.”

Megaera makes a face. “ _Eugh_. Spare me your sentiment, Thanatos. What he needs to do, and what you will _make_ him do, is to _go_ and _leave,_ as you’ve said. Do not allow him to linger in this house,” she hisses. “I want silence for once before I have to go back to work!”

“What? Are you _insinuating_ something, Megaera?”

“ _Tsk_! You’ll understand when he comes back, and I don’t care if you have to shove him out the damn window, Thanatos, but you make him _stop_.”

And with that, she’s gone, her ponytail nearly smacking him as she whirls around to stomp off.

Curious, he lets himself shift into Zagreus’ room, content to wait for the prince there, away from the others’ eyes.

He floats above the floor, taking stock of the new furnishings Zagreus has installed since his last visit. New rugs, yet another knick-knack, a chaise that neither of them will ever use, and… Ah. That’s what her excuse was.

That is the sort of thing that would seemingly anger her, isn’t it? He must thank his sisters for providing them this, then, to give Megaera such an excuse to deliver him her warning.

He allows himself a rare laugh, reaching out to brush his fingers against the lyre’s strings, wincing as the notes jangle through the air.

“Oh, good, you’re shit at it too,” Zagreus says. “I thought it was just me.”

Zagreus’ eyes glow even as his face is washed in shadow, the light from the hallway limning his outline like a halo. Thanatos enjoys the brief moment of feeling breathless, relishing that gut punch moment of recognizing Zagreus’ attention is on him alone.

Thanatos lets himself relax, feet touching the soft fabric of one of the room’s many rugs, fingers loose against the lyre’s strings.

Zagreus moves from the doorway, all slow, stalking grace. Sometimes, he moves like Thanatos is a wild animal he’ll scare away. He holds his hand out once he reaches the bookshelf, that cocky half-grin starting across his lips, the one of a hunter that has cornered its prey.

“Unless the gods themselves bless someone at birth, everyone is bad at this at first,” Thanatos says, point exasperation and part overwhelming fondness.

He reaches out, fingers brushing the warm center of Zagreus’ palm. Zagreus twists his wrist just so, slipping his fingers about Thanatos’ and squeezing.

“I hear you’ve been practicing,” Thanatos murmurs.

“Who told you?” Zagreus asks, looking wounded.

Thanatos laughs once, and the look of pure adoration on Zagreus’ face at the sound tugs at something deep within him. He lifts Zagreus’ hand to his lips.

“It doesn’t matter who told me,” he says against Zagreus’ knuckles.

“It was Megaera, wasn’t it?”

“It was Megaera,” Thanatos confirms. “I wouldn’t listen to her. It’s a worthy hobby. With time and practice, I’m sure you will improve.”

It isn’t as if she was truly concerned with Zagreus’ poor playing skills. That wasn’t what she was after, but if Zagreus believes it to be true, Thanatos can indulge his prince.

He’s been praying for something like this, quietly begging his sisters to set something in Zagreus’ path that could draw away a little of his pain, that could give him pause, for just one moment; anything that could draw some of the venomous tension from Zagreus when he’s in the House; anything that isn’t the ceaseless violence he’s embroiled in.

It’s the single most selfish thing he’s ever asked for.

In fact, their relationship is the only selfish thing he’s ever indulged in.

He boils with it, with the selfish desire to push Zagreus up and over the hurdles he’s faced. He wants to elevate Zagreus beyond this place; hwants so much more for Zagreus than the Pact, than what Lord Hades thinks he’s capable of. It doesn’t matter to him what Zagreus wants, he’ll do his best to help it come to pass.

He decides then, that Megaera’s warning, the one hidden underneath the snideness about the lyre, well. It can go to hell.

He refuses to temper himself when he and Zagreus manage a moment alone, simply because he is afraid of his master.

He knows where he stands in this House, and he’ll indulge Zagreus as he likes. He can do his job, love Zagreus, and still bear loyalty unto his master. One thing does not keep him from the others.

He will gladly go to Tartarus and rot with the dust of the Titans if he must. (He trusts that Zagreus can hold his own if Lord Hades tries to punish him as well.)

He wishes Zagreus would hurry up and untangle his feelings about Megaera. She still cares, that much is certain. There are things Megaera can do that he can’t; between the two of them, Zagreus would have comfort and aid whenever, and however, he needed it.

He curls his fingers against Zagreus’ wrist, lifting his hand to kiss the inside of his palm, then his wrist. He can smell the warmth of Zagreus’ blood, a slow flood of copper and ash that surges to the rhythm of his own heart.

“May I hear?” he murmurs, locking eyes with Zagreus. “Surely, it cannot be as bad as Megaera proclaimed.”

“Eh… If you’re sure, Than. It kind of sounds like Cerberus when he gets food stuck in one of his throats.”

Zagreus reaches out and plucks a few notes, and well…

He’s not wrong.


	4. Coworker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hasty conversation.

Learning to balance his responsibilities towards work and his desires to check in at the House is a headache at best. Mortals never slow the rates of their passing—instead, they seem to be dying faster than ever. Maybe there’s simply more of them; maybe if they would stop starving and freezing to death…

But Thanatos does his best not to think ill of the Lady Demeter. It is no secret that the gods above and the gods below do not think of each other with much fondness, but he does strive to keep a neutral state of mind towards his Olympian contemporaries. After all, if Zagreus one day reaches the surface… 

Best not let his mind wander too far into the future. 

In any case, he finds that, for the first time in ages, he’d rather be down below than on the surface working. He resists the urge to sigh, herding his newest batch of dead souls towards Hermes’ station upon the Acheron where the mortal realm borders upon the Temple of Styx. 

“Let’s make this quick, boss, you and I have places to be,” Hermes says in that quicksilver voice of his, like he’s just read Thanatos’ thoughts. 

Hermes winks. 

It’s distinctly uncomfortable. 

“I have no other outstanding duties today,” Thanatos says, frowning as he ushers the herd of shades closer together with a flick of his scythe. 

Hermes laughs. “Sure, sure.”

He snaps his fingers and the group of shades speed, slipping one by one into the ethereal plane of the Temple of Styx. 

Thanatos scowls at the smirk Hermes levels at him. “ _ What _ .” 

“Nothing, just thinking, boss. What’s the news out of the Underworld, lately? Prince Zagreus still kicking up a fuss and all?”

“Ah, quite. He’s good at it,” Thanatos murmurs. Now that Hades is aware, vaguely, of what’s between himself and Zagreus, he has a bit more freedom to lend a hand and linger. 

Just this past time, he’d had to save Zagreus from a stream of Flame Wheels he’d baited into following him, only to run face first into a Phoenix Egg. It was a good thing Zagreus had Mort in the first place; when Thanatos had left, Zagreus’ hair was still slightly aflame. 

A fuss indeed. 

“Did you just  _ smile _ there, mate? I cannot believe it, you know, that means Ares owes me some ambrosia, he didn’t believe Lady Aphrodite, and who doesn’t believe  _ her _ about—”

“ _ Pardon me?!” _

“Whoops! Don’t bother yourself with that, anyway, look, it’s Charon!”


	5. Stronger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You have the butterfly I gave you. Stay back, then, and it'll make you stronger when I'm finished here."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO ABOUT THE NEW THANATOS CONTENT IN THIS UPDATE--I'M!!!!!!!

He tells himself he wears the butterfly to remind himself to be careful. It’s not for the way it flutters against his skin, pinned to the inside of his chiton against his chest. 

(Against his heart.)

He’s always held Thanatos in high regard. Few can say that Death was their constant companion, but he can: he grew on stories of the surface, quiet jokes, and a longing so deep he couldn’t put a name to it. Thanatos had his father’s regard, an important duty, and _freedom_. 

Even in the long years that they did not speak, he’s always respected Thanatos. An endless, eons-long devotion, tangled up inside of his chest with the ties of familial bonds and that ever-sleeping feeling that he’s just not _right_ for feeling this way, that he’s just to the side of where he’s supposed to be. 

He wonders, briefly, why this feels special to hold in his hands, this fragile winged thing. He has the trinkets of other gods, of his friends, and they do not make his heart tremble so. It’s this feeling that draws him to his curios again and again, fingers cupped against jewel-bright wings. 

The first time, when Thanatos gently presses it to his calloused palms even as his words are as quick and sharp as Artemis’ own arrows, Zagreus fears he’ll shatter it without meaning. He’s no elegant fighter, desperation and frustration making him sloppy as his mortal-red blood slicks the string of Coronacht, loosens his grip on Stygius, relying on the gifts he’s been given to guide Varatha forward. He forgets all that Achilles has taught him, becoming some feral thing with no consideration of form or defense; all he knows is destruction, ruination, blood, and death. Yet, something precious has been placed into his care, more than any other gift he’s been granted. 

There is no way he can keep such a fragile thing without breaking it, with as much as a death-borne wreck he is. One touch, and he ruins everything—his home, his friends, his status—what chance would this gift have? What chance will these stubbornly held feelings have? 

But it beckons him like the lights of Olympus, like the promise of the surface, and it feels a little like hope. 

So he wears it, and remembers to steady his hand, close the gaps, and mind his weak points. The tolling bell is like a second heartbeat, a pulse in his ear, the fluttering wings like fingertips against his skin. And he grows stronger, stronger, and stronger still, until he can hold his own, until Thanatos commends him, until he holds his own, until he steps forward into that snow-bright copse, until he can recognize _why._ Why he treasures it so, why he’s held tight to this feeling for all these years, why he reaches in the green light, disappointed when it fades and he’s alone once more. 

And then, he holds Mort—careworn, lopsided, familiar Mort—in his hands, and he knows this feeling is not his alone.

Keepsakes are powerful things, inconspicuous trinkets that hold the powers of their originators, gifts filled with wishes. 

Thanatos wishes to keep him safe, to make him strong. Zagreus holds these wishes in his bloodstained fingers, keeps them close, keeps them safe and forefront in his heart. His nature is to be reckless, but he sees no harm in adapting to keep his precious things safe—he holds not only these gifts, but Thanatos’ own feelings now, and he will do his best to keep them safe.

“Stay back, then, and it will make you stronger when I’m done here,” Thanatos says, a quiet offer in his voice. This was his wish, his hope, when he offered that small token to Zagreus’ hands: help, respite, and strength. 

But it isn’t his keepsake that gives Zagreus these things; the magic is all Thanatos’. His presence, his voice, his company and this little game they play. Thanatos became a refuge in this pit he’s thrown himself into, and their meetings, their friendship, their feelings made Zagreus strong. 

“Together!” Zagreus calls instead, unsheathing Stygius as Thanatos brandishes his scythe.


	6. Warn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Zagreus approached me about Sisyphus recently.”  
> “Yes,” he says. “A drink _is_ in order then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate summary:  
> Meg and Than share a drink (and the singular braincell). 
> 
> _Spoilers for the most recent update ahoy!_  
>  I've been sitting on this one for a few weeks, waiting for the update to see if it changed anything with the Sisyphus situation in regards to Thanatos' dialogue. I then booted up the game, was instantly smacked in the face with Thanatos and Zagreus actually having an argument and Thanatos ripping into Sisyphus a few runs later (which, afaik is new, potentially?) , and went "oh. oh no." I actually had to seriously change the ending, whoops. 
> 
> So timeline wise, this would be right after the update's resolution to the argument about Orpheus and Eurydice, and right before you stumble across Thanatos reading Sisyphus the riot act. In my game Zagreus has only approached Meg about going easy on Sisyphus, it's _extremely_ awkward.

She glares into her cup as if the bloodred surface will allow her to scry answers from it. She doesn’t have that sort of power, and under the circumstances, her own are useless. 

“Megaera?”

She looks up and beckons Thanatos to her corner of the lounge, far away from the shimmering contraption Zagreus has put up. She refuses to be near it on principle alone, even if it means giving up her usual spot. 

“Mother said you wished to talk? You normally just say as much yourself.”

She snorts and picks up her goblet. “I didn’t ask her to summon you, but I suppose I do want to speak with you,” she says. She pauses. “Get yourself a drink, Than.”

“I don’t have time for that,” Thanatos says, brows pinching. 

If it were anyone but her, it would sound dismissive. Even Zagreus gets a little sore about Thanatos’ obsession with his work sometimes. But she knows why he’s like he is, knows the worry behind the words, remembers the ruin that follows a job left undone. He’s gotten so much better, lately. He’s been more talkative, more relaxed; it’s been good for him, developing his relationship with Zagreus as he has.

“Zagreus approached me about Sisyphus recently.”

Thanatos’ eyes widen and his nostrils flare. She grips her goblet tightly, watching as green light seeps from his pores, gathering around him. She thinks for a moment, he will simply flee, the way he always does when things get a little too personal. He’s never been good with things like this, so she wouldn’t blame him, but for once… for once, she wishes he would stay. 

He inhales sharply, gauntleted fist clenching as the light sputters and dies. “Yes,” he says. “A drink _is_ in order then.”

Megaera is no stranger to rage—she is the first of the furies, after all. She can taste it in the air, though not as strongly as Alecto can, and, oh, she can taste it now. It’s not the low-level, echoing anger that taints the air of Tartarus, but a fresh, red-hot bloom of it. It isn’t strange that she’s aware of it, but what’s strange is the source: Thanatos.

His anger is deep, ugly, and tastes of shame, like something rotting, like a wound left to suppurate. 

It’s a wound that has festered for too long, bound and hidden and left to permeate the flesh, the sort that is more torturous to leave alone than split open with her whip, the sort that she sneers at when she rounds upon the oath-breakers in Tartarus. She never has to wield a weapon there—words are enough. Words and wounds pair just as well as her whip and skin. 

She hates doing this to Thanatos. She hates that _Zagreus_ is going to do this to Thanatos, dredging up this old wound and digging his fingers into its pulpy flesh. Stupid, stupid, stupid Zagreus. He’s so trusting, willing to throw his lot in with anyone who isn’t his father. 

She wonders if perhaps, Lord Hades has done them a disservice by raising Zagreus the way he has. The potential that bleeds up and out from Zagreus makes her nose burn, her insides coil. But it’s wasted here, twisted up, and now…

“So,” Thanatos says icily, drawing a chair up beside her. “Zag wants you to stay your hand.”

She raises her cup in a mock toast, tossing it back without tasting it. Dionysus would weep. 

“He does indeed.”

Thanatos makes a sound in the back of his throat as he raises his goblet to his lips. He takes a long draft, then sets it back onto the table, hands folded against the wood and gold surface. He looks away, towards the entrance to the lounge, eyes distant. 

“I see,” he says finally. “And what did you say to him, when he asked you, Megaera?” 

_Not enough_ , she thinks. _Not nearly enough._

She gets along poorly with her sisters, and she always has. But she has always been close with Thanatos; he has always been kin to her in ways that Tis and Alecto aren’t. They’re unbearably similar at times, Nyx’ parenting shining through in all its independent, proud glory. 

“Your secrets are not mine to share, Thanatos,” she says quietly, her voice rough with frustration. “He has no idea, he just thinks it was a trick, never mind what that blasted man did when he was alive. I told him that it was more than cheating death, that in life, he was a poor excuse for a mortal, who twisted words around like hot wire, but that idiot, that blasted fool, he—”

“Enough,” Thanatos snaps. Fury chills the air around them, his eyes almost luminescent as he finally meets her gaze. “That is not what I asked you.” 

The air crackles with power: Megaera’s own cannot help but rise in response to such raw emotion. She doesn’t want to fight with Thanatos, she never has, not even when her own jealous temper was at its worst. 

“Enough,” he repeats, softer. He sighs, eyes closing and shoulders loosening as his anger dissipates. “Megaera, Zagreus isn’t stupid. You know that as well as I.”

“Did you really just throw a temper tantrum because I called your boyfriend _stupid_?!”

“Might I remind you that he is yours as well. Or is he mine alone when you’re peevish?” 

“ _Tsch!”_

He’s back to looking away from her again, towards the lounge door, brows furrowed in thought. “Zagreus is… naive, yes, and hasty. But who is to blame for that? If no one told him, really told him, how can he know? Which of us failed him, in the end?”

“You could tell him,” Megaera says, voice quiet. 

Thanatos tips his head in consideration. “I could.”

“But you won’t,” Megaera spits out, seething. 

“No,” Thanatos says. “I won’t. Perhaps if Zagreus asks me, I could be inclined.”

“But he hasn’t talked to you about it, has he?” she hisses. “That little, I could murder him, I _will_ murder him. Why ask only me?”

“Ah, I’ve only just returned from the surface. It’s no intentional slight on Zagreus’ part—I’m sure he’ll ask once he sees me,” Thanatos says. His mouth twitches in a brief smile. “Why, I wasn’t aware you were that protective of me, Megaera.”

Megaera pauses, lips pursed tightly as if she’s tasted something bitter. She dislikes being teased, except… if it’s Thanatos, or even Zagreus, the gentle needling is almost calming. It makes her take a moment to regroup. 

“I respect you, Thanatos,” she sighs. “I am… fond of you, as family and as colleagues. I am thankful that you can provide the things I cannot to Zagreus, and where my hands are tied, yours are unbound. I’ve known you since you were new. Of _course_ I’m angry for you.”

“Thank you,” Thanatos says. He circles a finger around the rim of his goblet, brows furrowed. “I am admittedly at a loss. I trust Zagreus, and in his instincts. We failed to listen when they told him that something was not right with regards to his place in the House. We failed again when we did not believe he could make it past the upper bounds of the House’s demesne.”

“Mother told me to trust in Zagreus’ feelings,” he continues, thoughtful. “And I do. I’ve warned him against needless meddling, in case of this exact situation; I believe that he’s taken it to heart as I’ve taken his intentions to heart.” 

“But?”

Thanatos is quiet for a long moment, his face dark as his lips part silently. He inhales sharply, fists clenching. 

“That wretched shade was once a clever-tongued mortal,” Thanatos says, contempt heavy in his voice. 

She can see it, power at a crossroads. She can see all the roads that lead to torment, that lead to those dark things that bring mortals to her feet, over and over again. It’s harder with gods, but not impossible, especially one as close to her as Thanatos. 

His face twists in her mind’s eye, her power showing teeth bared in a snarl and eyes burning brighter than the fires of the Phlegethon even as Thanatos’ face remains as outwardly stoic as it ever is. 

“A mortal who boasted that he was more swift of mind and tongue than gods, with my body proof. I do not trust him, I do not like the thought that he has gotten close to Zagreus. I—it is abhorrent to me.”

She sees him as the quiet rage he carries could paint him, as he was when he was first found, first freed from that bright room where Mother could not touch him, where Hypnos could not find him: towering, ichor-soaked bones shining gold through his shade-wrought skin. Gentle death, ever-calm Thanatos, transformed into that feral, terror-wrought thing that mortals spend their lives fearing, as unturnable as sister Atropos. He is a god who guides, who brings peace and gentle endings, but as all the children of Nyx, he is descended from something wild, something from a time before men and their mortality. He is just as capable of reaching out and _taking_ as they all are, chaos quietly embedded into his bones just as temperance is. 

All of them are capable of that untamable fury of a world forced into order against its will, and she has done Thanatos a disservice by forgetting it. It’s no secret that Thanatos is proud and stalwart, but to take that for granted, to forget how deep of a wound he’s secretly hiding beneath that steadfast aura… How complicit is she in this? What role does she play here? 

She finds something within herself twisting, reaching, needing to end the path she sees before them. She isn’t Zagreus, but she knows Thanatos, knows how isolating anger can be. She’s afraid of what will happen if it takes over.

She’s a being made to stoke the fires of rage, to use them against the mortals in her purview, to wield it as a weapon. But that’s just her day job. (Night job.) 

She touches Thanatos’ curled fists with the tips of her fingers. “I know. I can see.”

“My apologies, I…” Thanatos murmurs. He presses his palms flat to the table, breathes in deep. Slowly that terrible visage bleeds away, the worst of his anger tucked away, replaced with a bone-deep feeling that makes Megaera’s teeth ache. It’s the feeling of a scar, one that healed poorly, and aches when the body is overtaxed. Painful, ugly. “My greatest fear is that Zagreus… we gods are unforgiving, unyielding. Mortals are no better. I… I’m afraid. He is so kind, Megaera.”

“I’m aware,” she mutters bitterly. 

“Perhaps it’s part of his aspect,” Thanatos muses. “If the Shade Achilles is correct, Zagreus brings rebirth, life. For whatever reasons, my sisters have put him on a path that crossed that wretched man.”

“You do not like it.”

Thanatos looks at her, face strained. “Obviously.”

Meg snorts, unable to help the urge to laugh at the look on Thanatos’ face. “Obviously,” she repeats. 

“It doesn’t matter what I think or like,” Thanatos sighs, picking up his goblet and taking a long draft. “Zagreus does what he pleases. Continuously.” 

“He does,” Megaera says. “It’s both utterly infuriating and, _tch,_ charming.” 

“Is it?” Thanatos asks dryly.

“You don’t think so? It reminds me of Cerberus.” 

“Enough, Meg,” Thanatos says, despite the smirk that tugs on the edges of his lips. “That’s uncalled for.” 

“You still laughed.” 

“I really wouldn’t say that,” Thanatos murmurs. He stands, an electric scent rising in the air around him. His face slides into something far away and thoughtful, chin tipped just so. “Thank you for the warning. And the company. I am grateful, Megaera. I… am unsure of what to do with this information, but… For now, I have to go.” 

“Hey, don’t do anything stupid,” she warns as light fills the room. He has a look about him, the sort of frustration that she often sees on… 

“I’m not Zagreus,” Thanatos mutters, and then he’s gone.

She raises her goblet to his empty seat. “So you say,” she mutters. 


	7. Concession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s almost a game of who-blinks-first, only with Death and the feared First Fury. They both have issues displaying affection publicly, and apparently, in front of each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lil' something I tossed together while waiting for the update to download. Man, it's so exciting to see the game come out of EA.

“Here we are! Together! The three of us!”

Zagreus’ voice is strained with forced cheer after the solid five minutes of awkward silence that he’d just broken.

Thanatos takes a sip of his drink, studiously staring at the jewels encrusted into the table. There are thirty-three rubies and five, six, seven opals.

“My favorite people,” the prince continues. “One on each side. This is the life, mates. Afterlife. You know.”

“Zagreus, shut up,” Megaera snaps. “ _You’re_ _making this awkward_.”

Thanatos wonders if he can just up and teleport away for work, or if Megaera would murder him for leaving her with Zagreus when he’s like this.

Zagreus, who, gods above, decided they needed to all go on a date. Together. In the lounge.

The lounge, where Zagreus has put some sort of mirrored ball in, apparently bribed Dusa to close the area off to the other shades, and somehow convinced the head chef to make something that actually looks edible.

He and Meg get along just fine. They always have, due to their similar work ethics and workloads, and most recently, their affections for a certain thick-headed prince. Thanatos can barely think up a situation that would cause him to dislike Megaera, even when he was trying to figure out his own tangled feelings for Zagreus.

But, despite this and their constant reassurance that, yes, they get along well, and no, they aren’t jealous of each other, Zagreus has decided to take it upon himself to arrange this… date.

Perhaps if it were anyone else, it would go better. But Zagreus is Zagreus, and they’re… themselves. It’s almost a game of who-blinks-first, only with Death and the feared First Fury. They both have issues displaying affection publicly, and apparently in front of each other.

Zagreus has no such compunctions and probably never will. His aversion to personal space ends as soon as his father can’t see him. He’s got one arm slung around Thanatos’ shoulder and he keeps trying to hold Megaera’s hand—Thanatos gives him a rough thirty seconds before Meg stabs him with a fork.

“C’mon, you two!”

“Zagreus,” Thanatos sighs. “Perhaps it would be… more prudent next time to ask if we’re comfortable with this sort of thing?”

“Ah,” Zagreus says. “I thought…”

“There’s your first problem,” Megaera huffs.

“Meg,” Thanatos sighs. “Please. Hear him out.”

“No. If you two want to parade about, be free! I told you, Zagreus, that I wanted to keep this quiet, so why have you drug me into this?”

“You two meet without me all the time! And never let me join you!”

A beat. Thanatos looks up and meets Megaera’s eyes around Zagreus’ profile.

Her face is twisted into something soft and haughty, that exasperated fondness he’s seen so often on her face when they compare notes on What Disasters Hath Zagreus Wrought This Day/Night.

Thanatos closes his eyes and hopes for strength.

“You’re jealous,” Meg purrs, all frustrations seemingly forgotten now that she has ammo to tease Zagreus with. “That’s cute. Thanatos, he’s _jealous_. To think you were worried about _us_ being jealous, Zagreus.”

“Zagreus. You know we’re meeting as colleagues? Right?” Thanatos says, ignoring the way Meg is snickering into her drink. “It’s not like they’re dates.”

Zagreus purses his lips, face flushed dark. “I know that! I just, I don’t get time with the two of you, together.”

Meg snorts. “Then have dinner and drinks with us like a regular person, Zagreus. Not this nonsense.”

“He did his best,” Thanatos murmurs.

“At not thinking,” Megaera retorts, examining her nails. “I told you it was only a matter of time before he did something stupid.”

“I didn’t doubt you.”

“Oh, look, Than’s employee of the month again,” Zagreus interjects. “Do you think I would make it now, since I’m giving everyone a break from Father's overbearing glare?”

“ _No_ , Zagreus,” they say as one.

Zagreus grins and loops his arms around each of them, pulling their loose triangle in against him. This time, Thanatos doesn’t fight it; neither does Megaera.

Concessions, it seems, can be made.

“You actually have to have a job to make that list,” Thanatos says, “And rampaging is, unfortunately, not your job. It’s Megaera’s.”

“Idiots,” she mutters as Zagreus laughs so hard he buckles forward.


End file.
